


The Destroyer Of Worlds

by ManimalCrackers



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Human, Ancestors Are Guardians, F/F, F/M, Jade and Jake Are Cousins, Jake/John Siblings, Jane/Jade Siblings, John and Jane Are Cousins, Lalonde Twins, Lalonde Twins Still Have Mom, M/M, Nuclear War, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pre-Scratch and Post-Scratch Trolls Are Siblings, Two Dads
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-12
Updated: 2014-01-24
Packaged: 2018-01-08 10:10:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1131398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ManimalCrackers/pseuds/ManimalCrackers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your name is Karkat Vantas, and your family has just won the lottery.</p><p>This isn't a lottery for money, however. This lottery was created for the preservation of the human race. The United States and Russia are on the brink of mutually assured destruction. The government is doing all it can to ensure the safety of it's people, and this is how. There are thousands of shelters across the country, each capable of holding a small number of people. The shelter you're assigned to is to hold you and 48 other people.</p><p>You, your brother, and your father will be stuck in a shelter with complete strangers for (quite possibly) as long as you'll live. You don't know who else has won the lottery, that's a government secret. You don't know what the shelter looks like or how it works. You don't know what will happen to your friends.</p><p>Your name is Karkat Vantas and the world you live in is falling apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Karkat: Open the letter

**=== >Karkat: Wake Up**

**  
**Your name is Karkat Vantas, and you awaken to a knock on your bedroom door.

Actually, it's more of an incessant pounding. You groan and gracefully flop out of your bed, grunting as your face makes sudden contact with soft carpet.

"Coming! Calm the fuck down." you yell, pushing yourself up. The pounding stops, and the voice of your father replaces it. His voice is quiet, but excited. He opens the door to find you sitting up on the floor, staring at him.

"Why are you down...Nevermind. Wake up your brother and meet me downstairs," he commands, "I've got very good news."

_What good news could you possibly have?  
_

"Do I really have to wake _him_ up? Why couldn't you just do it before waking me up?" You groan, bumping your head on the mattress.

"Because you need to actually talk with him for once. He's your brother. Now, get dressed. This news can't wait any longer." He closes the door and you hear him thumping down the stairs. He sounds like a child on Christmas morning, the way he runs down them. You sigh and pull on some pajama pants, then leave your room and wander down the hall to your brother's. You pause in front of the door and prepare yourself for the absolute shitstorm that's about to happen. You knock on his door. _  
_

No response.

You knock louder, adding your voice to the mix. "Kankri! Dad wants you awake, he's got some 'news.'"

No response.

_God damn it, Kankri._

You debate kicking his door in, yanking him up by the collar of his turtleneck and beating him. It sounds like a good idea until he opens the door, his hair sticking up in several different places and dark circles under his eyes. Lately he hasn't been sleeping well. You know exactly why because you haven't been sleeping too well either. A frown crosses his face and you assume it's because you're at the door.

"What is it, dear brother?" he asks, in the annoying passive aggressive tone of his. He knows damn well what you want because you just fucking stated it, and yet he asks that. You hold back the urge to punch him. But his face...

It beckons.

You hold off on punching him for now, and instead restate why your father wanted him awake. He nods and closes the door. You sigh in the silence and start stumbling downstairs, turning into the dining room. Your dad is sitting at a table with an unopened letter in his hand and a genuine fatherly smile plastered across his face. Your father never fails to keep things light with that smile, even if it does piss you off. Seriously, how the fuck does he do that? Do you just magically become a shitstain upon the birth of your first son? Immediately learn all there is to know about being a dad from a magical fairy that visits you in your dreams? Either way, it pisses you off. So much. You approach the table and take a seat, waiting in silence for a few moments until your brother finally makes his way downstairs. His hair looks tamed, and he's managed to shove himself into one of his favorite bright red turtlenecks. The kind of bright red that hurts to look at. The kind that makes you want to punch your brother right in the dick. It never fails to give you these feelings.

"About fucking time," you utter, "You took 5 minutes for a small family announcement." Dad shushes you and you roll your eyes. Kankri takes a seat.

"You're using language that offends me _again_ , brother." He says quietly. He barely ever raises his voice and it should fucking stay that way.

"Both of you, pipe down!" Dad hisses, then swats at the table with the letter in his hands. You both keep your mouths shut afterwards. "This letter is from the United States government itself. The Department of Defense!" You know what that means. You freeze.

The United States and Russia are preparing for war. Defenses and military forces are being beefed up on both sides. Nearly a year ago, Russia discovered the presence of American spies in their facilities. They flipped their shit and neither side has attempted to calm their flailing shit. Slowly, tensions began to mount, and now America plans to use nukes. Nobody knows why, considering it will literally destroy the fucking planet. There have been riots, protests, even suicide bombings. Suicide rates have skyrocketed. The world is falling apart. The U.S. government created a plan to preserve the human race by creating "state-of-the-art" shelters. Hundreds of them across the country. The only way you can get into one of these shelters is to enter the lottery and win. You aren't told who else is assigned to your shelter. You don't know anything about the shelters themselves, who runs them, or who or how many people you'll be staying with. The letter in Dad's hands is your savior. Your guardian angel. This letter means that you will be one of the few lucky families to live in safety of cement and metal.

Your name is Karkat Vantas. The year is 2022 and you are going to survive nuclear war.

Unless, of course, the letter tells you otherwise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here goes! This is my first real attempt at writing fanfiction. I hope you enjoy. Feedback would be appreciated. I don't really have a schedule for this so I'll try and update as much as I can. Or as much as I want. Either way, yeah! I'll add relationship tags when the relationships become established, and if there's any other tags I'll do the same.
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks! :D


	2. Karkat: Listen to your father

**=== >Karkat: Listen to your father**

Your father slowly tears open the letter. You assume he's trying to build up the tension. Your heart is pounding against your chest to the point where you can hear it ringing in your head. Kankri is dead silent, staring at the letter with a scowl. You wonder what he's thinking. Probably something prentious and annoying.

"For fuck's sake, Dad! Open it already!" you yell at him, startling him from his focus on the letter. He looks at you with that expression that tells you to 'calm down and be patient' but you really can't take it anymore. The tension is driving you up a fucking wall. He continues to slowly open the letter and you just stare at him. No, you stare at the letter. You couldn't care less about him right now. All you care about is whether or not you're going to live.

He finishes opening the letter. He pulls out a folded wad of paper and lets the envolope fall to the table. His hands are shaking. You can hear the paper brushing against itself as they do. He slowly starts to unfold the paper, his shaking increasing further and further. He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. You can see tears welling up in his eyes. You haven't seen your dad this close to crying since...

* * *

Your mom and dad met when they were in high school. They went to college together, and got married about two years after they graduated. They loved each other dearly, so you've been told. Their first child, your brother Kankri, was born about 3 or 4 years after they got married. They were very happy together. Your mother was, so you've been told, very religious. Your father joined her in her beliefs soon after they were married. Kankri was raised in it.

You, however, were not.

You were born 3 years after Kankri. You were...unexpected, to say the least. Your mother didn't know she was pregnant until about 5 months into it. There were complications. She died giving birth. Your father left your family's church a few weeks after the funeral. Everything that reminded him of her was removed from the household. You were never blamed for her death. Dad loves you dearly, just like he loves Kankri. Kankri wouldn't dare blame you for her death but you know deep down that he still holds some sort of...grudge. Kankri continued to practice the religion that he was raised in and your father never took that away from him. It was the last thing that he had to hold on to. You don't practice any sort of religion but you don't really mind Kankri practicing it, even if he is a complete jackass. You at leasst let him have that.

You don't remember much about your mother. Only the things Kankri has told you about her. _He_ barely remembers her. Nobody talks about her in front of your father. There was, however, one incident where you and Kankri were fighting. The jackass decides to call you out on all of your mistakes and you do so as well. His last words consist of your mother.

"She's dead because of _you!_ " he screams. Your father silences the fight immediately. You are both sent to your rooms, grounded for the rest of the weekend.

You put up no struggle. Neither does Kankri. You can see the tears welling up in you father's eyes. Kankri attempts to apologize, but immediately silences himself. Any further mention of Mom would probably result in an emotional breakdown. You go upstairs and lock yourself in your room, still shaking from the verbal struggle between you and your brother. You decide to turn in for the night, burying yourself under the covers of your bed.

Later in the night, Kankri sneaks out of his room and knocks on your door. You get up and open it, staring at your brother in harsh silence. His eyes are red and puffy, as if he's been crying. It wouldn't surprise you.

"I-If it's okay with you, may I come in?" he asks, his voice in the register of a calm whisper. You nod and step away from the door, telling him for shut it behind him. You sit on your bed and leave enough room for him to sit at the end. He scoots close to you and sighs.

"I'm sorry about...that. I know it's not your fault. You had no control over it and...I guess I'm still upset over her death. I miss her dearly." he says, staring at you with honest eyes. You nod as an acceptance to his apology. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you into a hug and next thing you know you're sobbing into his shoulder, gripping the fabric of his sweater with enough force to possibly tear it. You cry for what seems like hours until you eventually calm down. Your brother leaves the room and you crawl under the covers again.

You can hear the sobbing of your father in the silence. The walls in your home have always been thin.

* * *

"Congratulations!" he reads, and you suddenly realize that those are not the tears you've witnessed before. Those aren't tears of sorrow or pain, they're tears of _joy._ Your fucking father is the hardest person to read in the world.

He reads the letter to you and your brother, which tells you about the history of these shelters and how they'll work for up to 60 years. It states that you will live in this shelter with your family of three and 46 other people. It does not say who these people are, apparently that's a government secret to protect their identities. You assume that the others don't know your names as well. The shelter is designed to seal itself shut until the 60 years is up, then access to the outside world will become available. The shelter will close the day before the bombs are scheduled to launch. You are given verification cards, as well as directions to the shelter. You are to be there on Monday, June 20th at 9:00 AM. The doors will close 12 hours after your arrival. You are free to come and go between then for things like supplies or things from home.

_'Yeah, like there's any supplies left. People have bought everything up!'_ you think to yourself.

Dad finishes the letter, the last paragraph consisting of a "best of luck" from the Secretary of Defense. You highly doubt he's written this letter himself, or signed it, but at least they give you the comfort. He hands you the cards and tells you not to lose them. They are your life from here until the shelter. He then gets up and runs downstairs, leaving you and your brother in silence.

"We're going to live! Holy fuck!" you cry out, and your brother smiles faintly. You grab the letter from the table and read it over to yourself. Once, twice, three times just to make sure. Dad comes back from the basement with a pile of unfolded cardboard boxes under one shoulder and a few duffle bags slung over the other. He drops the bags between you and Kankri and retakes his seat, starting to fold up boxes at a very fast pace.

You realize that it is Sunday, June 19th. It is 1:00 PM and you have only the rest of the day and night to pack.

"Let's get packing." your father says, smiling madly as cardboard scrapes against cardboard. You and your brother each take two bags and run upstairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Karkat, Kankri, and their dad are going to live in a shelter for the next 60 years. Isn't that neat?


	3. Karkat: Arrive at the shelter

** ===>Karkat: Arrive at the shelter **

**  
**Your name is Karkat Vantas and all of your belongings, at least the ones that you're supposed to bring, are packed.

You now sit in the cramped-as-fuck back seat of your father's Toyota, gazing out of the window at the panicked streets beyond the glass. The riots have lasted for days, but the people don't seem to focus on anyone but the people pointing the guns. The National Guard has been mobilized nearly nation-wide to calm the riots, which backfired tremendously. Smoke rises from the city on the horizon and you begin to wonder if the war is between the people amongst themselves instead. People seem to forget what the real threat here, and what the real goal is as well. The goal is survival, and obviously not a lot of people are going to make it. You think the whole lottery system was a load of bullshit, and that there is an infinite amount of ways to go about this differently. For starters, the nations could fucking get along.

You spend your time in silence while your father and Kankri talk to each other over the faint mumble of the radio, but somehow you can still hear it between their words.

"What do you think the people will be like?" asks Kankri. He's unusually eager to meet these people, and if he acts like he did back home, you highly doubt any of them will like him. You also doubt any of them will like you. ' _Good, let's keep it that way,'_ you think.

_"Riots have continued nationwide as the president declared a state of emergency this morning. A curfew has been placed, effective between 9 P.M. and--"_

"I don't know, but I'm sure there will be plenty of new faces," your father replies, cutting off the radio in terms of volume. You sigh quietly, but it's apparently enough for him to hear you. "You okay back there?"

"Yes. Fine. Absolutely no fucking problem back here," you reply, rolling your eyes. Kankri mumbles something under his breath, most likely giving his two cents on your foul language. You swear, he just says things like that to irritate you. Like he has some weird fetish over you being upset. He totally gets off at the thought. Ugh, ew. Stop thinking about that.

You stop thinking about that and swear to yourself that the thought will never cross your mind again. This, you swear.

"Well, there's obviously something wrong," he says. God, you wish he'd just let it go. You're not exactly happy, leaving your life back home. Leaving your life...Oh god. You freeze, and slap and your thighs, then squirm upward in the seat and slap at your behind, feeling the slight bump of your wallet in your back pocket. You shove your hand in to retrieve it, pulling so hard that you just might tear the pocket and when you finally get it out...

_"Shelter Identification Card_

_Citizen #23, Shelter 232B  
_

_Name: Karkat Vantas"  
_

_  
_You let out an exhausted sigh and slowly close your wallet, dropping it in your lap instead of replacing it as you slump back into the seat. So worried over nothing. You double, triple, then quadruple-checked if you had your card in your wallet. You really shouldn't be this worried. Your father chuckles and you kick his seat, just enough to apparently make him swirve.

"Careful!" he barks as he regains whatever lost control he had over the car. You consider that a victory, especially now that you notice your brother clutching the "Oh shit!" handle near the top of the door. Did you mention you hate your brother? He's like you, but he somehow manages to make _you_ nearly fifty times worse. No amount of self-loathing will amount to the pure, blinding hatred for your brother. Sure, you did spend that one night sobbing into his arms and the way he held you felt more brotherly than anything you thought he was capable of, but it's not like he'd ever do anything like that again. He may try to be gentle, but he's still a douche. You still hate him.

A silence lingers in the air, and your father turns up the radio to counteract it.

_"Those of you who have been chosen for survival in government supplied shelters, you have two hours until the designated meeting time and 14 hours until the doors are sealed. A reminder to all of those not chosen, do not approach the shelters with fake identification cards, weapons, or any other means of infiltration. Necessary force is authorized, you have been warned."_

It's not until the car arrives at a fence that you notice trouble. Well, as close to the fence as it can get. The fence is surrounded by rioters, and the road leading in is backed up by at least five cars. You wonder if the people in the cars are designated survivors or just people trying to get in like the rioters. The fence is also surrounded by soldiers, keeping the rioters at least five feet from the fence, their guns raised and pointed as the shouting escalates. Horns honk from behind you, then in front of you. The rioters begin to spread toward the cars, swarming the first few as they slowly move down the line. Soldiers fire warning shots and quite a few people vanish, yet some still rock the cars. Shots are fired again, and you see a few people drop. That's when people start to run. The rioters are gone within a matter of minutes, and you can't help but worry about the people in the first few cars. You immediately see soldiers rush to the cars. Identifcations are checked, people are let into the bunker, and the cars are parked in the field behind the entrance.

You can't help but notice that one or two people are lifted on stretchers, taken into the bunker after being hastily checked for identifcation. Others are crying, following them down. Soon a soldier knocks on the driver's side window.

"IDs?" he asks, holding out his hand. You pull out your state ID and the card assigned to you, Dad and Kankri doing the same. You pass it up to the soldier and he nods a thank you as he collects the other cards. He walks away to another soldier with a clipboard and they check the guards. He rushes back, returns the cards, and tells Dad to park the car in the field. He also says that if your father hands over the keys, the boxes in the trunk and back seat will be checked, then delivered to family's assigned room. The soldier leaves and your father parks the car in the field. You collect your backpack and step out into the chilled morning air, a yawn escaping your lips. Dad tosses his keys to a soldier and he nods, and a few more swarm to pull out boxes. Deciding to let them do their job, you start toward the shelter's door.

You descend at least thirty or fourty feet into the bunker, facing a long narrow hallway that branches into plenty of other hallways and rooms. Soldiers tell you to go forward about ten feet and take the door to the right.

"You can't miss it," they say. Well, aren't they right? Within seconds, you hear the sobbing of a few people in what looks to be a conference room. There are no tables except for a big one in the middle, but plenty of chairs pulled out. There's quite a few people in the room, and you assume that the small groups of people are individual families. Most of them consist of three people, just like yours, three. One is just two boys with stupid shades, sitting in the corner with absolutely stone cold faces. The other two families consist of crying people, one person holding the other or vice versa. You assume these people knew someone hurt in the riots. These two familes must have been the unlucky ones to be the early arrivals.

You, Kankri, and Dad pick out a few empty chairs and sit in them, making no effort to communicate with others just yet. You look around at each family, scanning faces for the faint possibility of you knowing someone. You don't quite notice any familiar faces, so you decide to wait, and wait, and wait. Some people venture from beyond their loved ones to make awkward first contact, but no one makes their way toward you. At least not for a while. A few more families arrive, and people are striking up conversations with others. You even hear a few people laugh. It's strange, how easily physical contact seems to lighten some people's moods.

"Hello?" a voice asks, and you turn your head toward it. The voice is calm, somewhat quiet, and you can tell there's a certain accent about it. You meet eyes with a girl, smiling slightly as she pulls up a chair next to you.

"Do you mind if I sit next to you? It doesn't seem like you know that many people here. Neither do I, really." She smiles at you and you chuckle, shrugging.

"Yeah, go ahead. I guess it's nice to have _some_ company in this metal death trap."

She takes a seat in the chair and states her name, Kanaya Maryam. She's taller than you, which isn't really a surprise considering your stout frame. She's also rather skinny, and it makes you feel a little self consious about yourself. She wears a black t-shirt with a green symbol on it and you swear you've seen that symbol before. She also wears a red skirt that goes down to her ankles, and the kind of shoes that you can just slip on. You can't quite place the accent, but it sounds somewhat close to Arabic, and her olive skin might help explain that. You probably shouldn't be spending so much time trying to figure out her race. It's not like it matters to you. Her voice is an interesting sound. Calm, soft, and very careful. She's very friendly towards you, which is a little surprising at first. No one is ever really that friendly when it comes to Karkat Vantas.

"I entered my family into the lottery without their knowledge, hoping that they wouldn't be upset with me if I recieved a letter stating that we had one. When we did, I sat them down and we talked about it. My mother," she points across the room and you see two women sitting alone. "Well, she wasn't exactly pleased when I revealed the news to her. She was delighted about our new future, but more upset by the fact that I registered without her consent. My sister didn't take the news too well. She panicked a lot, but we eventually convinced her that everything was going to be okay." The younger one, Kanaya's sister, is in a black dress that shows off more skin than you would deem necessary in the chilled temperature of both the outside and the room. Whatever, it's not your place to make clothing decisions for her, you hardly know her. She also has a lot of tattoos and a lip piercing, which is cool, you guess. The older woman is also in a dress, but it shows a lot more of the jade color of Kanaya's shirt instead of black. You don't quite know what it is with this family and dresses, but again, whatever. Kanaya shrugs, glancing at you. "I guess that's my story. How about you?"

"My dad signed us up," you respond. Might as well get it over with. You jab your thumb at the air in their direction and Dad waves toward Kanaya. She smiles and waves back, and Dad continues to look around. He eventually gets up and walks over to someone that you assume he knows. You'll figure it out later. "The guy you just waved to is my dad, and the prick giving everyone the silent treatment in the corner is my brother. He's a douche, don't talk to him. Anyway, there's nothing too interesting about us. We signed up, we won, we packed, and we came here. I don't really...know anyone here. You're the first person I've met."

"Well, it's a pleasure to meet you. I don't think I got your name, though."

"Karkat."

"Again, a pleasure to meet you, Karkat. I look forward to talking with you more, but I should probably go check on my family. You understand." You do understand, and you nod as she pushes her chair toward her family. Kanaya and her sister instantly begin to talk, and you can see a grin on her sister's lips. No doubt teasing her about you. Ugh, how annoying.

Eventually, a few more families enter the room, as well as an important looking man in a military uniform.

"Excuse me! Can I have your attention please?" It takes a few moments for everyone to quiet down. "I would like to welcome you to your bunker. We apologize for the...distractions outside this morning. If you've been injured in any way, feel free to report to the medical office as soon as you can. There are a few injured who will not be joining us for our little tour and introduction ceremony, so please introduce yourselves to them when you get the chance. We want them, as well as you, to feel at ease and safe. Now, let's start with attendance, followed by introductions."

Great, you get to introduce yourself to a room full of people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is at this point in which I actually introduce other characters for once! I'll also tell the story through there points of view, little sub-plots within the bunker. Little stories for each character. I may touch on certain characters more than others, specifically those in pairings. I may not touch too much on certain characters as well, and a few maybe not at all. I haven't thought this all the way through yet, but I've got plenty to write.
> 
> Also, pairings will be established eventually. Again, I don't have too many planned out but probably enough to last us for a little bit. If you don't like the pairings, I'm sorry, but I'm not exactly going to put change in what I have planned out just for a few people, as insensitive as it sounds. You can write your own fanfiction if you want.


End file.
